


a practical proposal

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Caspar von Bergliez, Beta/Omega, Courtship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Omega Linhardt von Hevring, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Scenting, kind of non-traditional but not so much that I think it deserves the tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-10-18 07:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20635460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After his first heat, Linhardt starts having to field courtship proposals from nobles who want the connection to House Hevring. Among them is a proposal from House Bergliez. The courtship would be of little benefit to either house, but at least it's with someone he knows - and so Linhardt agrees to court Caspar, if only to ward off any more suitors.It's only practical, after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think this might be my first time posting a multi-chap that doesn't have its entire plot outlined, and it feels _really weird._ Almost like I'm posting a proof of concept rather than a real fic. Anyway this first chapter doesn't touch on the plot at all and is just meandering filler bullshit, but I'd like to think that it's _cute_ filler bullshit and that there's some relevant worldbuilding details shoved in there somewhere. Idk I'm making this up as I go
> 
> Black Eagles' dynamics:  
Alphas: Edelgard, Hubert, Ferdinand, Petra, Byleth  
Betas: Caspar, Dorothea  
Omegas: Linhardt, Bernadetta

Linhardt had known from a young age that he was an omega. It hadn't meant much to him at the time; maybe his parents fretted over him a bit more than they would have otherwise, but it hadn’t affected him in any noticeable way. Compared to his status as the sole heir to House Hevring, his dynamic held little sway over his life. 

Linhardt had also known that he'd have a heat, sooner or later. He knew the common symptoms (desire to nest, need for comfort, and increased libido) and knew the suggested solutions (comfortable nesting materials, a cuddle buddy, and something he’d been told was improper for unwed nobles to consider). It was something he'd learned, acknowledged, then filed away and never really thought about. It just hadn't seemed relevant, and he had a short memory for things that bored him. 

Of course, late adolescence was when most people had their first cycle. And with how busy life at the Officer’s Academy was, well, the whole thing had completely slipped his mind.

So he had, unfortunately, woken up one morning, sweaty and uncomfortable, to the sound of someone knocking at his door. It took him a moment to realise what was happening.

“Linhardt!” called Edelgard from outside his room. He must’ve been incredibly late to class if she had personally come to drag him along. “I know you’re in there. Open this door, or I _ will _ break it down.”

“Please don’t,” Linhardt replied. The last thing he wanted was to be temporarily evicted from his room while they set about fixing his door. “Tell the professor that I won’t be making it to class for, oh, say, a week or so."

A sigh. “You can’t skip lessons just because you feel like it--”

“I promise you, this is nothing like that. It’s... a personal issue, I’m afraid.”

“Linhardt, just _what_ is going on?”

Linhardt quickly weighed the pros and cons of telling Edelgard. Pros: she’d leave him alone, wouldn’t break down his door, and would probably schedule someone to check in on him periodically so he didn’t die of hunger or boredom. Cons: he’d be telling his house leader, an alpha, that he was in heat. Tales of alphas attacking omegas purely because of heat were so rare that they were practically legends, so he wasn’t the least bit worried about that, but it would be embarrassing.

Edelgard mostly made the decision for him with a low, irritated growl of, _"Linhardt."_

The tone of it made him want to obey. Looking back, he wasn't sure if it was because being in heat made him more receptive to that sort of thing, or if Edelgard had been so fed up that she (accidentally?) used her dominance to get him to stop being difficult. Maybe it was both.

“I’m coming, okay, just calm down.”

He stumbled on shaky legs towards the door. It was only after he was face to face with Edelgard that he realised that this possibly wasn't the brightest idea. In his defence, Edelgard had practically commanded it of him.

Edelgard's eyes widened, before smoothing back out into practiced neutrality - but even she couldn't hide light flush on her cheeks. Linhardt wondered about how he must've looked - hair mussed from sleep, still in his nightclothes, smelling of heat and, if the warmth on his face was any indication, fairly red.

Well, no one could say he didn't try to warn her.

"I... see. I'll tell the professor you'll be absent, then."

"That would be appreciated."

"Will you be needing anything?"

Linhardt knew what she meant, but he couldn't resist the chance to tease her, as inadvisable and juvenile as it may have been. "Why, are you offering? That's awfully forward of you, but I won't say no. Just please, be gentle with me--"

Edelgard made an offended sort of choking noise and her blush grew brighter. "Absolutely _not_! I only meant food and water-- Nevermind! I'll send Hubert later to sort this out."

She stormed off, leaving Linhardt hovering in his doorway. It was just as well that this was apparently during lesson time, because there weren't any gawkers.

He supposed that meant he had official permission to skip class. Linhardt decided to go back to bed.

* * *

For the second time that day, Linhardt was woken by someone knocking on his door. His sleep had been fitful, which was _utterly unfair._ The one occasion he could freely slack off and he was too warm and vaguely uneasy to sleep.

The door opened before Linhardt could say anything, because Hubert didn’t have the same sense of politeness or respect for privacy that most people had. On most days Linhardt wouldn’t have felt anything more than vague exasperation, but today was not a good day and he couldn’t help but be irritated.

Hubert brought with him an armful of bedding, a basket, and his own bitter scent. He smelled like the coffee he liked to drink in the mornings; Linhardt couldn’t say that he liked the beverage at all. Some distant part of him wondered at Hubert smelling so disagreeable to him - weren’t omegas in heat supposed to be receptive to any alpha's scent? - but the rest of him was too busy bristling at the fact that an alpha he didn’t like had invaded his territory.

“Do you mind,” Linhardt asked. “I could have been engaging in something private, you know.”

Hubert didn’t dignify that with a reply and simply stared him in the eye as he unceremoniously dumped his armful of bedding onto Linhardt. “Nesting materials,” he said. He shifted the basket in his other arm, which Linhardt could now see had various articles of clothing inside. “And here. The professor suggested that we offer scented items for nesting. They said that the scent of pack members could soothe an omega in heat.”

What did the professor know of heats, Linhardt thought, then just as quickly quashed the thought because he didn’t really want to consider the specifics of how his alpha teacher knew how to handle heats.

“I’ve known you all for six months, what makes you think I consider you pack,” Linhardt grumbled, but rifled through the basket all the same. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for until his fingers caught on a soft piece of fabric. He pulled it out, and immediately recognised it as one of Caspar’s undershirts. Caspar’s scent, sharp and warm, seemed to permeate the room; had he worn this to training? That should’ve been gross, but Linhardt flushed to think of it. He blamed it on the heat.

“I’m taking this. Goodbye.”

“I thought you might like that one.” There was a knowing look in Hubert’s eye, which Linhardt decided to ignore. “I’ll return shortly with food and drink. Or would you rather have a certain someone else bring it to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. _Goodbye."_

Hubert, apparently finally taking the hint, exited without another word. Linhardt breathed a sigh of relief as the scent of coffee followed him out, and got to work constructing his nest. 

* * *

It was night when Linhardt woke again, this time to someone gently shaking him awake. He found that his irritability had eased once his nest was built - even the warmth had been bearable once he was in the comfort of his own nest. Thus, after Hubert left and his nest was built, he fell into a deep and comfortable slumber.

“Hey, Linhardt,” said the person shaking him awake. “Linhardt, wake up.”

“Mmmmmmuh,” Linhardt mumbled intelligently. “Wh’ time is it?”

“Dinner time, that’s what. You slept through breakfast _and_ lunch, you’ve gotta be starving.”

Linhardt cracked his eyes open to gaze up at the blurry figure above him. Pale skin, sky blue hair - Caspar. He blinked, then sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I thought Hubert said he’d bring me food.”

“Yeah, well, he told us that you got real snappy at him. Said it’d be better if I did it, since at least you like me enough to put my shirt in your nest.”

“And I thank you for providing it. It has made this nest more comfortable than it would’ve been otherwise.” Said shirt had been tucked against Linhardt's chest when he slept, though when he sat up it was sadly dislodged and was now lost somewhere in the pile of blankets. 

Caspar beamed at that. “No problem! What are friends for, right? But seriously, food. Aren’t you hungry?”

He held out a tray piled high with sweet buns. Hardly a nutritious and balanced dinner, but it made Linhardt’s mouth water. He didn’t waste any more time digging into the buns; funny how he forgot about his hunger until he was faced with food. Supposedly omegas in heat would get hungry quicker and require a higher caloric intake, so it was curious that that tidbit apparently didn’t apply to him - but maybe that was because he spent the day sleeping, rather than engaging in... activities.

Caspar watched him tuck away the buns at a speed that honestly was closer to how Caspar usually ate than how Linhardt did. “Man, you missed a lotta stuff today. We had practical training today, y’know? So Petra was sparring with the professor, and they pulled out this _awesome_ move...”

Linhardt half-listened to Caspar ramble on about his day. It was close enough to small talk in a way that usually made Linhardt bored, but he found that he didn’t mind so much when it was Caspar. He didn’t mind a lot of things when it came to Caspar. Perhaps that was the effect of a decade-old friendship.

As the pile of buns dwindled, so did the conversation. Which was more of a one-sided rambling than a conversation to begin with but eh, semantics.

“I should probably get going now,” Caspar said. He looked strangely reluctant; even stranger was that Linhardt didn’t really want him to go, either.

_ Omegas in heat crave physical closeness _, some voice in Linhardt’s head said. It sounded suspiciously like his strict old tutor who taught him sex ed without ever batting an eye. But yes, that must’ve been it. His sudden and unexpected clinginess was purely a side effect of the heat. Caspar's own reluctance was more difficult to explain away, but it could very well have been because he'd been basking in heat pheromones for the better part of an hour. That kind of thing had an effect on people, even betas like Caspar. 

Even though he knew it was irrational, Linhardt still cast about for an excuse for Caspar to stay, if only for a moment longer. In a spark of inspiration, he tossed one of his pillows at Caspar. "Scent that for me, please."

“Uh, okay?” Caspar stared at the pillow, bewildered. “Do I just... press this to my neck?”

Hm, right. As a beta Caspar wouldn’t really have the same scent marking instinct. Linhardt wondered if this was a bad idea and he'd have to guide Caspar through every step of the process. 

"More or less. Just put it against your neck and... you know." He made a vague hand gesture. "Scent it."

Caspar dutifully pressed the pillow against his neck but stared at Linhardt quizzically. “Lin, I _ really _ don’t know what you mean when you say ‘scent it.’”

“It kind of feels like pushing out your scent so it’s stronger. You really haven’t ever had to do that?”

“No, but I can try!” Caspar closed his eyes and scrunched up his face in concentration. He looked like he was more constipated than anything.

“...You know what, nevermind. Just rub it around a bit, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Caspar pouted, but at least he stopped scrunching up his face. After some vigorous scrubbing (Linhardt hoped he didn't hurt himself) the pillow was returned, now satisfyingly scented despite Caspar's general confusion over the whole thing. 

"It's kinda weird being able to smell myself," Caspar remarked. Despite their scents generally being more subdued, betas had the strongest sense of smell - though it was always difficult to smell one's own scent anyway. 

"Well, _ I _ think it smells nice." Linhardt said. He hugged the pillow to his chest, resisting the urge to bury his face in it, and feeling overall far more satisfied than he should.

The pillow smelled different than the shirt from earlier - beta scent had the odd ability to adapt to those of the people around them, taking on alpha-like earthy tones around omegas and omega-like sweetness around alphas. The base was always the same, always uniquely recognisable, but the subtle undertones of it could shift one way or another. The shirt was tinged with sweetness, possibly because Caspar had been training with some of their alpha classmates - the pillow now had a strong undercurrent of something woodsy. If pressed, Linhardt wouldn't be able to pick which one he liked better. 

"See you tomorrow?" Linhardt asked. 

"Yeah! I'll bring breakfast, okay?" 

"Make it lunch. I'm unlikely to be awake before then."

"Will do!" Caspar flashed him another grin, which Linhardt thought was really much too upbeat for how late it was. That was part of what made Caspar endearing, though. 

With a full stomach and a scented pillow, Linhardt settled down for the third time that day. Warm, comfortable, and content, it didn’t take him long to drift off again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after thinking through the plot a bit more, I have come to the realisation this really is just a/b/o flavoured fake dating. tags have been edited accordingly.

Linhardt took after his father in many aspects. His green hair, his persistent sleepiness, his omega status - all traits that once had visitors cooing over how he was the spitting image of his father. His eyes, however, came from his beta mother. It was uncommon, at least among nobles, for an omega man to wed a beta woman because, well. There was a reason why the Hevrings only ever managed to conceive one son.

Theirs had been a political marriage. It seemed that Count Hevring was keen for his son to take after him in this aspect as well, because he had been forwarding Linhardt various courtship proposals ever since his heat ended days ago. They'd agreed long ago that Linhardt wouldn't have to think about courting until he'd at least had his first heat - and true, Linhardt just had it, but he didn't think his father would begin with the proposals this soon. 

_ You needn’t agree to any of them immediately, _ Count Hevring’s initial letter read.  _ You needn’t agree to any of them at all should they fail to capture your interest. But for the sake of our house, please at least read them. _

Well, Linhardt certainly did read them. Out loud. At dinner. Surrounded by his classmates, most of whom were nobles and therefore knew the ones making the proposals - if not in person, then by reputation. Linhardt knew he’d drive himself mad with frustration if he read them alone, so he opted to read them with his classmates so that they might share in his mockery.

Linhardt picked up the next letter to study its seal. "House Raan," he announced. 

"My mother's old house," Ferdinand said thoughtfully. "Just think, Linhardt - we could be cousins-in-law."

Linhardt dropped the letter into the rejected pile without even opening the envelope. So far, the rejected pile dwarfed the maybe pile, and the accepted pile was nonexistent. "That's a good enough reason for me to reject it."

Dorothea giggled as Ferdinand spluttered in offence. "Oh, don't be so hasty. At least let me hear the gossip first!" Linhardt wasn't entirely sure why she was here, given that she didn't know much about the various noble houses and therefore didn't often have anything to say. Maybe she just wanted to know which nobles to steer clear of.

"House Raan holds a small amount of land at the western coast, in one of the empire’s harbour cities,” Hubert supplied. Linhardt thought Hubert would be above gossip, but maybe he stayed because Edelgard did. Whatever his reason, he provided a surprisingly sharp insight into the affairs of every noble house in Adrestia and thus was welcomed into their little dinner sessions.

“The port they control is relatively unimportant, but it sees enough trade for the city to prosper. No doubt they hope to ally with House Hevring in order to bolster their own standing, after having already successfully done so with House Aegir. However,” Hubert shook his head. “There are accusations of embezzlement and extortion. I shudder to think of the consequences of allowing them even indirect access to the empire’s finances.”

“Well,” Linhardt drawled. “Definitely rejected, then.” What a shame; now he wouldn’t have to suffer the horror of knowing he was related to _Ferdinand von Aegir,_ of all people. Who, speaking of, looked rather dejected at the revelation that his mother’s former house had been accused of such deeds.

Linhardt paid it no mind and moved on to the next letter. “House Dellingir.”

Edelgard raised an eyebrow. “I thought the heir to House Dellingir was an only child. Why propose a betrothal between two heirs?”

“It doesn’t make sense, does it,” Linhardt mused. “Perhaps they mean to set me up with someone from a branch family, or they wish to merge our houses.” He opened the envelope in one deft movement, deciding that this matter was curious enough to warrant a quick read through. It didn’t take long for him to wrinkle his nose in annoyance and drop that into the rejected pile as well.

“They did propose to merge our houses, but with the future Baron Dellingir taking over the Ministry of the Interior. They also insinuated that omegas can’t be trusted to hold power and that I would serve better as an obedient husband and father.”

It was wholly true that Linhardt would rather hand off his responsibilities to someone else, but that was because he himself was lazy. To say that he was incapable of it because of his dynamic, and to add insult to injury by tacking on the suggestion that he should instead stay home - well, that was just plain insulting. Even though he didn’t particularly want to take on any ministry affairs himself, he felt disinclined to entertain any proposals from a house that so blithely insulted a third of the human population.

“The current Baron Dellingir has always been the old-fashioned type,” said Hubert. “Awfully self-important as well. I hear his heir is a brute, so you’d do best to steer clear of the whole lot.”

"House Alcis."

“It’s a small house whose territory borders Enbarr,” Edelgard said. “Rather unremarkable, but that does mean I haven’t heard any bad news about them.”

“They keep to themselves, for the most part.” Hubert added. “They govern their land well and don’t bother other noble houses, save for political matters. However, I do know that the main family only has two children; their heir is an alpha woman, and her sister is an omega. Do you know whom the proposal is meant for?”

Linhardt skimmed over the letter. “It seems like it’s for the omega sister.” After a moment’s consideration, he put it in the maybe pile.

“I see that that's not a problem for you," Dorothea noted. 

“Not at all, no. I don’t have much of a preference.”

"You only have one letter left," Ferdinand pointed out. "I don't mean to rush you, but I fear that if we take any longer the staff will shoo us out so that they may begin cleaning."

Now that Ferdinand had mentioned it, the dining hall was mostly clear of students and faculty, save for their little group. When had it gotten so late? 

"Let's get this over with, then."

The last letter laid face down on the table. Linhardt flipped it over - and his shock must have registered on his face, because Ferdinand asked, "What is it? Surely the house cannot be so bad as to deserve such a look on your face."

"It's House Bergliez." Linhardt turned the letter so the others could see its seal and soon enough, their expressions mirrored his. 

"How strange," Hubert said. "Both houses are of comparable political standing, so any influence gained would be minimal. House Bergliez can't be seeking to add your crest to their bloodline, as any children you bear will be of House Hevring, not Bergliez. There’s little benefit to both houses, so why make this proposal at all?"

“More importantly, isn’t that Caspar’s house?” Dorothea asked. “Are they saying you and Caspar should get together?”

Linhardt knew he should open the letter, should answer the questions rolling about in his mind. It would save him a lot of worrying. Instead, he tucked the letter under his arm and picked up his dinner tray. “I'm going to go find Caspar."

Caspar had left a while ago, saying that he was going to go train. He’d been oddly quiet the last few times they sat together for dinner. Linhardt figured it was because he never paid attention to other noble houses and thus didn’t have much of a clue what was going on with all the proposals.

When he got to the training grounds, Caspar was still there, whaling on some poor training dummy. Linhardt half-expected him to have left already with how late it was. Well, at least he wouldn't have to expend more effort searching for him. 

"What did that training dummy ever do to you?" 

Caspar jumped and spun to face Linhardt in a fighting stance. He relaxed a moment later. “Geez, Linhardt, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“You should pay better attention to your surroundings,” Linhardt retorted. “Anyway. We need to talk.”

“Uh oh, that’s never good. What’s up?”

In lieu of a verbal response, Linhardt simply handed him the offending envelope. It was fascinating to watch Caspar’s face flit through several complicated emotions before finally settling on a pleading look directed at Linhardt.

“Lin, I swear I didn’t know anything about this.”

“I figured you didn’t,” Linhardt sighed and took the envelope back. “I haven’t opened it yet. I thought I should ask you about it first.”

“You’ve asked me now, what are you waiting for?” Impatient as ever, even in the face of this shocking knowledge.

The letter was perfectly ordinary, an introduction of the unlucky soul meant to be courting Linhardt and some vague promises of the supposed political benefits. Swap out the names and it could’ve been just another addition to his rejected pile. That only made it stranger - why write as if he and Caspar were strangers? As if they hadn’t been inseparable since they were six years old?

Wordlessly, he handed it to Caspar, who skimmed it and looked just as confused and perhaps more unsettled than Linhardt felt. “Why didn’t my dad tell me about this?”

“How should I know?” Linhardt shrugged. “Maybe he was afraid that you’d stop him.”

“I--” For once, Caspar seemed lost for words. “I need to write to him. Sorry Linhardt, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” And then Caspar was walking away, and Linhardt stood alone in the training grounds.

A letter to his father, hm? That sounded like something Linhardt should do as well. Once he returned to his room, he sat down and began to write.

_ Father, _

_ I must ask, why did I receive a courtship proposal from House Bergliez? I know that you make a note of every house that has sent a proposal before you forward them to me. I cannot imagine you are thrilled to become in-laws with Count Bergliez, nor vice versa. There are no real benefits to anyone should I accept, so why? Why did Count Bergliez make this proposal, and why did you accept? _

_ Please reply soon, _

_ Linhardt _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pwease comment and subscwibe uwu. jokes aside it's hard for me to gauge if people actually like this and if it's worth continuing to write it bc all my fics have at least two comments on them so zero comments makes me wonder if I'm doing something wrong


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually kinda feel bad about asking for comments now bc I didn't expect that much of a response?? impostor syndrome is a hell of a thing
> 
> characterization fought me every step of the way in this chapter so if anyone's ooc then that's why. I cannot promise it will be better next chapter because next chapter has not been started yet so if awkward writing is hard for you to read, buckle up folks it's gonna be a long ride
> 
> also quick worldbuilding note that I'm not sure I made clear enough: courtship isn't binding the way betrothal or marriage are, it's more or less just Officially Recognized Dating and you can call it off anytime you want. that's prolly some useful context for the chapter.

_ Dear Linhardt, _

_ Is that any way to write a letter to your father? I am certain that I raised you better than that. Please tell me that those years of etiquette lessons weren't a complete waste. _

_ To tell the truth, there are very few houses that would give us any sort of political benefit in an arranged courtship. Our social standing is already very high and we have no need to seek crest-bearers. I cannot speak for Count Bergliez, but I wager that his reasoning is much the same. While it is not mutually beneficial in the typical sense, we do not lose anything from it either. _

_ On the more human side of the issue, I know that you are fond of Count Bergliez’s second son. I won’t presume to know the nature of that fondness, but romantic or platonic, I believe that courting him would be preferable to courting a distant stranger. We disagree on many things, Linhardt, but I am not a cruel man. Political benefit means little if you resent your partner. I had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that you would be more receptive to this particular offer. _

_ Though I would like to emphasize again that you need not court at all if you do not wish to, I must admit that I grow weary of negotiations. You must know that for every proposal you receive, I will have written and received dozens more to ensure the terms and individuals involved are acceptable. Should you choose a suitor, even temporarily, we could all stop fretting about the issue and spend our time on more important issues. Please, at least consider it. _

_ Warm regards, _

_ Count Lamont von Hevring _

Linhardt frowned down at the letter, half-wishing its words would shift to something more palatable. Not for the first time, he wished he could just go to sleep and not have to think about nobility or courtship or politics. 

"More letters, Linhardt?" Dorothea asked. "How many noble houses _ are _ there in Adrestia?" 

"Far more than I can count. But this isn't another courtship proposal. It's a letter from my father.”

"Must be a troubling letter if it has you making that expression. Is it about the proposals?" 

"In a way, yes." More about one specific proposal than about proposals in general. "Have you seen Caspar?"

Dorothea blinked in surprise. "Now that you've mentioned it, I haven't seen him come to breakfast yet. You don't suppose he could've overslept?" 

"I think that's unlikely." It'd be a strange role reversal if he had. For years Caspar was the one who had to physically drag Linhardt to breakfast, not the other way around. "I'm going to go look for him."

Dorothea said something Linhardt didn't quite catch as he left, too focused on his task to listen. Good luck maybe, or just a farewell. It didn’t matter. What mattered was talking to Caspar about whatever in Seiros’ name was going on.

The first place Linhardt stopped by was the training grounds; and the universe must’ve been taking pity on him, because once again, he found Caspar here. He wasn’t alone - that surly swordsman from the Blue Lions class, Felix, was training alone in another corner. Linhardt ignored him.

“You really should eat breakfast before you train, you know.”

To Caspar’s credit, he didn’t startle this time. “Did you need something, Linhardt?”

“Did your father write back to you yet?”

Much to Linhardt’s surprise, Caspar flushed bright red - well, redder than he’d already been from exercise. “I, yeah. Yeah, I got the letter this morning.”

When it became apparent that Caspar was not going to elaborate on that, Linhardt prompted, “Well? What’d he say?”

“Doesn’t matter!” Caspar’s voice pitched too loudly, causing Felix to scowl at them from across the room.

“Either shut up or have your lover’s quarrel somewhere else,” he called, causing Caspar to sputter. How odd; Caspar wasn’t usually this wound up.

“We’re leaving, calm down,” Linhardt called back. To Caspar, he said, “Come to my room?”

"Why your room?" 

"It seems unwise to have this conversation in public, so unless you're volunteering your room..."

"Your room's fine." Caspar said far too quickly. Linhardt wanted to ask him why he was acting so strange, but Felix was still glaring at them and Linhardt feared that he would find them more worthwhile opponents than the beat-up training dummy.

Linhardt all but dragged Caspar to his room. The irony of the situation didn’t fail to strike him - usually it was Caspar dragging Linhardt around against his will. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Why have you been acting so weird?” Linhardt asked the moment they were away from prying ears.

Caspar opened his mouth, then closed it, then deflated. “I’m sorry. Look, it’s just... Weird. It’s _ weird _ having my dad write a courtship proposal for me without telling me.”

“But that’s not all of it.”

“Ugh, you’re way too smart.” Caspar wrinkled his nose. “I don’t wanna talk about it though.”

If it were anyone else, Linhardt might have pressed harder. But he knew Caspar, and he knew that Caspar could be just as stubborn as Linhardt was with the right reasons. Trying to interrogate him would be an exercise in futility, and Linhardt had never been one to expend energy on a pointless pursuit.

“Have it your way then. I wrote to my father as well. Care to hear what he said?”

“If you don’t mind, sure.”

At some point, the letter in Linhardt’s hand had gotten horribly crumpled. He tried to smooth it out as best he could. “It’s not very interesting, I’m afraid. He agreed that there was little benefit to our houses if we courted, but also said that there were few houses who could give ours any sort of benefit anyway. He also more or less told me to hurry up and accept a proposal already because he was tired of dealing with them.” The rest of the letter felt too personal to share, so Linhardt decided not to mention it.

“Well, are you? Gonna accept, I mean.”

“Your father’s, or just any proposal in general?”

Caspar made a face. “I dunno. Any proposal, I guess.”

“I must say, I’m not fond of the idea of courting a stranger.” Loathe as he was to admit it, Linhardt’s father was right. He’d much rather court Caspar than some noble he’d never seen before.

“And if it weren’t a stranger?”

“Well,” Linhardt said, meeting Caspar’s eyes, “That would be fine by me.”

A strange sort of tension hung in the air, after that. Linhardt wondered if he’d said something wrong. Strange how that something he was worried about now. He opened his mouth - maybe to make some sharp comment to diffuse the situation, maybe to take back his last statement - when there was a sharp knock on the door.

“Linhardt.” Just his luck, it was Edelgard. “You’re late for class. Again.”

“Let’s talk about this later.” Linhardt muttered to Caspar. Raising his voice, he said, “Alright, alright, I’m coming.”

Edelgard raised an eyebrow at Caspar, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t lecture Linhardt like usual either, likely putting two and two together and figuring out that whatever this was, it was related to the courtship proposal from House Bergliez. Linhardt almost wished she’d say something; the walk to class was horribly awkward in its silence.

* * *

Lessons seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. That was normal, really, at least for Linhardt - Professor Byleth turned a blind eye to his napping because, as they’d put it, he did well enough in exams and he didn’t bother the other students. What was truly strange was that today, his distraction hadn’t been because of slumber - instead, he had been too busy mulling over the issue of The Bergliez Proposal. 

Linhardt was jolted out of his thoughts by Caspar poking him in the shoulder. “Hey, you said we were gonna talk later?”

“I did, didn’t I?” To tell the truth, talking was the last thing he wanted to do right now. Just _ thinking _ about the issue had utterly drained him.

“We don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” Caspar said. He clearly tried to mean it, but Caspar was a terrible liar and his anxiousness was palpable. Linhardt sighed.

“No, we might as well get it over with.”

“Right. Okay. Um.”

There was a moment of silence as each of them tried to gather their thoughts. It was _fantastic_ and _not at all awkward._

"What I said earlier," Linhardt finally began. "About being okay with courting someone I already knew."

"Yeah, I've been thinking--" 

"Oh really? First time for everything, I suppose. Be careful not to strain yourself." Linhardt tried to quip. It sounded flat, even to him.

Caspar pouted. "Hey, don't make fun of me! I'm trying to be serious here. Have a real heart-to-heart, all that sappy stuff."

"Right, right. Sorry. You were saying?" 

"I've been thinking about it. You said your dad wanted you to just pick someone so he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore, right? And you probably don't want to keep reading letters too. And my dad wants me to court you, so..."

Linhardt raised an eyebrow. "So you want me to accept House Bergliez's offer?"

"It doesn't have to be for real," Caspar quickly added. "We could just, you know. Pretend. Fake date. Until this blows over, or you find someone you really wanna court."

It was, in some ways, a tempting offer. It was, in other ways, somewhat absurd. A pretend courtship? Was that something that could be done? It seemed improper - but then again, Linhardt had never been one for propriety, and he was hardly a grand romantic. He could think of no reason to refuse.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll accept the proposal. I'll write to my father to confirm it. You should probably do the same."

It was a logical decision; why, then, did Linhardt feel uneasy about it?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more worldbuilding notes: humans have three sets of scent glands - wrists, neck, and inner thighs. each gives a slightly different scent and different connotations when used for scenting. wrists are for familial scent marks, neck for anyone you're close enough to cuddle with (most commonly packmates and lovers, less commonly friends and queerplatonic partners), and inner thighs are sexual, mostly because of where they're located and the obvious conclusion of what you must've been doing if you were rubbing against that spot consistently enough to be scent marked by it.
> 
> also I have come to the realisation that I really struggle with writing dialogue lol. group dialogue especially is just... so hard for me. how do people do this.

“So you and Caspar, you are dating now?” Petra asked over breakfast.

“_Fake_ dating. We’re officially courting, but only on paper. We’re not going to do any more than we need to.” Linhardt replied. Poor Petra just looked even more confused.

Linhardt took a bite of his toast to stop himself from trying to further explain and therefore dig himself deeper. His father's reply had come, prompt as ever, right before breakfast - the arrangement, strange and temporary as it was, was now officially recognised. Not that Count Hevring knew the finer details of it; Linhardt suspected that his father would have a conniption if he knew it was all a ruse.

“Forgive me for prying,” Ferdinand cut in. “But how do you plan to keep up the ruse? You’ve already told us that it’s a false arrangement. What if someone with unsavory intentions finds out and spreads the word? It would be the scandal of the century.”

"Aren't you exaggerating a bit?" Caspar asked, but Dorothea nodded.

“I mean, we already have one person here who’s related to some of the nobles bothering Lin,” Dorothea tilted her head in Ferdinand’s direction. “And I don’t know all the details about who’s related to who, but there’s probably more students like that. It doesn’t even have to be malicious - all it takes is one person saying the wrong thing in their letter home.”

Caspar shot Dorothea a look that sat somewhere between pleading and betrayed, and that was too much effort for Linhardt to ponder over breakfast, so he didn't. He did step in with his own opinion, however. "I hardly think it would be that large of a scandal--"

“So the sons of two of the biggest noble houses in Adrestia concocting a scheme to avoid suitors _ wouldn’t _ be a scandal?”

Linhardt wrinkled his nose. “I wouldn’t phrase it quite like that. And don’t call it a scheme; that makes it sound far too much like the nonsense Claude gets up to.”

“However you wish to phrase it, the problem remains,” Ferdinand mused. “If the truth were to spread, it would greatly affect the reputation of Houses Hevring and Bergliez.”

"So what solution would you suggest?" Linhardt's tone was overly biting, perhaps, but it was stupidly early and he didn't want to admit they had a point. So sue him.

Dorothea grinned, and Linhardt had the sinking feeling that he'd walked into a trap. "You could try acting more like a real couple. You know, go on a date, scent each other, that kind of thing."

"Need I remind you that we're confined to monastery grounds? This isn't exactly a good date spot. And I thought betas didn't have a scenting instinct." Certainly he'd known his mother to only very rarely scent his father.

"Instinct isn't the only reason to do things," Dorothea countered, and Linhardt supposed she'd know best about that, given she was both a beta and far more experienced in romance than anyone else in their house. "Sometimes it's just nice to have the intimacy. You and Caspar are pretty touchy already, so it'd be weird if you didn't scent each other."

Linhardt spared a glance at Caspar, who had turned very red and generally looked somewhat embarrassed. "I'm not going to do anything Caspar isn't comfortable with."

"Hm," Dorothea turned to Caspar. "Caspar, are you okay with that?"

"I... guess? If it helps Lin, sure."

Dorothea looked inordinately pleased with herself. "So that's settled then, isn't it? You're both fine with it."

A thought occurred to Linhardt then. "Why are you so invested in this anyway?"

"What do you mean? Ferdie was the one who started it."

"He simply asked a question. You've been far more insistent about how Caspar and I should act more like a proper couple."

"Well, I just thought he might have a point," Dorothea shrugged, and that was the moment Linhardt realised something was up. Her dislike of Ferdinand was obvious to anyone who wasn't as dense as the man himself. The day she agreed with Ferdinand was the day he stopped shouting his own name at every conceivable opportunity.

Still, he couldn't entirely dismiss either of them. If nothing else, if word got back to Count Hevring about the true story behind his and Caspar's 'courtship', it would be awfully bothersome trying to deal with the fallout.

He glanced over at Caspar, whose cheeks were bulging with the food he'd practically inhaled in the past few minutes. "Caspar. After breakfast, do you want to go to your room or mine?"

In hindsight, Linhardt really should have anticipated Caspar choking and needing impromptu first aid.

* * *

They ended up deciding on Linhardt's room, because it was closer and there were no stairs. Linhardt sat on the edge of his bed, while Caspar perched on the chair.

"You'll have to come closer, you know." Linhardt said. Caspar stared at him and for a brief moment Linhardt wondered if he'd somehow not heard him, but then Caspar moved to sit on the bed next to him. 

Caspar was uncharacteristically quiet; Linhardt wasn't really sure _ why. _As Dorothea said earlier, they did a lot of casual friendly touching - Caspar would sling an arm around his shoulder, or Linhardt would slump against his side for a nap, that sort of thing. This wasn't anything overly different. There was really no reason to be apprehensive about it.

"I'm going to scent you now," Linhardt said, feeling oddly like he was soothing a nervous animal. Caspar jolted when Linhardt put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in. 

"Woah, hey," he leaned away with a nervous chuckle. "Do we _ have _ to do it like this? Can't we, I dunno, use our wrists?" 

"Caspar, wrists are for familial scent marks." Linhardt said incredulously. He couldn't know _ that _ little about scent marking, right? "If we're going to pretend to be a couple, we'll need to use the scent glands on our necks. You don't want people thinking we're brothers, do you?" 

"That'd be pretty bad, huh? Okay, uh. Just warn a guy, y'know?" 

Linhardt suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Are you sufficiently warned now?" 

"Yep," Caspar said utterly unconvincingly. But this time, when Linhardt leaned in, he didn't flinch away. 

Linhardt carefully pressed his face to Caspar's neck, breathing in his scent. With his free hand, he gently maneuvered Caspar's head until he too was pressed against Linhardt's scent glands. The whole thing could be aptly described as mutual nuzzling.

Caspar's face felt burning hot against his neck, but Linhardt ignored it in favour of trying to coax out more scent. Betas tended to have weaker scents that would wash away easier, so he'd have to keep stimulating the glands if he wanted to retain any of Caspar's scent on him. And he definitely wanted it - fake relationship aside, Caspar smelled nice. Sharp and warm like spices, but subtle in a way that wasn't disagreeable even though Linhardt preferred sweetness over spice. He wouldn't mind wearing that scent at all. 

He sighed into Caspar's neck and felt Caspar shiver against him. It was just as well that Linhardt had decent control over his scent glands, because Caspar wasn't doing much himself to coax out Linhardt's scent. Linhardt chalked that up to Caspar not really knowing what he was doing.

When he pulled away, he was pretty sure that he'd turned just as red as Caspar was. But more importantly, the scenting worked; Caspar now had the smell of old books layered on top of his natural scent.

"Yeesh, you really smell like me now. Isn't this a bit much?"

"To a beta, maybe." Out of all the dynamics, betas tended to have the strongest sense of smell despite being the least affected by pheromones. "To anyone else it'll probably smell just about right. Most of it will fade as the day progresses, anyway."

"If you say so. Hey, we should get to class. If Edelgard has to come get us again Hubert might actually hex us."

"Mhm. Are you okay? You're awfully red."

"W-well, so are you!" Deflection; Caspar was absolutely trying to hide something.

"That's true, but you've been acting strange recently. Do you really want to continue with this? I could always write again to my father..."

"I--" Caspar scrunched up his face. "I'm fine, Linhardt, really. But we're seriously gonna be late for class." And then there was no more talking, because Caspar grabbed his wrist and started pulling him in the direction of the classrooms and it was all Linhardt could do to keep up.

* * *

The professor pulled them aside after class. Linhardt wondered if his naps had finally caught up with him and his grades were slipping enough for an intervention - but no, Caspar wouldn't have been kept behind as well if that were the case. Probably.

"So," the professor said levelly, glancing between the two of them. "You're courting now."

"Yes, we are." Linhardt said, unsure. Where were they going with this?

"First of all, congratulations. I think I speak for most of the class when I say that we were getting tired of watching you two dance around each other," and wow, wasn't that an embarrassing thing to hear from one's teacher. It was also in this moment that it occurred to Linhardt that they'd never informed the professor of their arrangement. "Second of all, I do hope this won't affect your schoolwork."

It wouldn't, mostly because their courtship wasn't real. Linhardt opened his mouth to say that, but Caspar cut in before he could.

"Don't worry, professor! We'll be fine."

"Hm," Byleth said, and it was absurd how one sound could convey so much doubt. "You two were late to class yesterday and Edelgard had to fetch you. Today, you were almost late, and I can tell you were... occupied."

Ugh. That was _ really _ something he never wanted to hear from a teacher. Linhardt fought to keep the blush off his face. "It wasn't anything inappropriate, professor."

"I'm sure it wasn't," Byleth said, this time without a trace of disbelief in their voice. Sexual trysts were near impossible to hide or fake due to the scent glands on the inner thighs. It would have been apparent to everyone that whatever Linhardt and Caspar were doing, their trousers had stayed on. "Still, I can't allow you to be continually late to class."

"I'll make sure we make it on time, professor!" Caspar chimed in. "I'll even get Lin to stop sleeping in. You can count on me."

"I never agreed to that," Linhardt muttered, but Byleth gave their version of a small smile.

"I'll trust in you, then. Now, off you go. I've taken up enough of your break."

Linhardt pulled Caspar out of the classroom and into a relatively secluded corner. "Are we not going to tell the professor that it's fake?" 

"Wait, I thought we weren't telling people that anymore?" 

"I don't think we need to keep it a secret from the professor. They don't seem like the type to gossip."

"Oh, well." Caspar shrugged. "Hey, we could think of this as practice! The professor's so smart, if we could fool them, we could fool anyone."

"Hm. Well, I won't stop you. And if the professor gets mad at us, I'm blaming you."

"Geez, have a little faith, won't you?" Caspar laughed. But then his expression turned serious, and Linhardt knew he wouldn't like whatever he said next. "Listen, about earlier... I really, really don't mind this at all."

"Then why have you been acting so strange?"

“I-- I don’t really wanna say.”

Hmm. Linhardt narrowed his eyes at Caspar, scrutinizing him. “If I ever step out of line, or I do anything you’re not okay with, tell me immediately.”

“Of course! I’ll even pinky promise on that!”

“What are we, seven?” Linhardt smiled, but hooked his pinky with Caspar’s anyway. Whatever made his friend happy, he reasoned. Caspar beamed, and Linhardt couldn’t help but feel inordinately pleased at the sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caspar: dorothea. dorothea I fucked up. I asked him to fake date me what do I do  
Dorothea: oh caspar you sweet summer child. dw I have a plan  
Caspar:  
Caspar: wait  
Caspar: wait no bad plan
> 
> I thought about having Lin realise he's crushing by the end, but also... I wanna put the love confession at the ball, so. Caspar's gonna have to pine for a few more months lol, because there's no way Lin wouldn't just go and confess within the week. I might go back and make a tiny edit to ch1 so the timeline is a bit more reasonable.
> 
> EDIT: I POSTED THE WRONG VERSION. I SAT THERE FOR HALF AN HOUR REWRITING SCENES THEN PROCEEDED TO COPY AND PASTE AN OLDER VERSION. turns out the true idiot of this fic was me all along


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's just... ignore the previous version of this chapter. it was a bad decision made out of sleep deprivation and my tendency to get sick of fics after 2k words. I thought I could just shove out a shitty ending and be done with it and never write a multichap again, but then I couldn't stop thinking about how I could've made it better. I'm still not fond of this chapter, but school is severely kicking my ass and this is supposed to be my low-stress hobby, dammit, I rewrote this so many goddamn times even before I tried putting out that botched ending.

The Ethereal Moon was upon them, which, in Garreg Mach, meant one thing and one thing only: the ball.

It was all anyone could talk about nowadays. The hallowed halls of the academy were filled with idle gossip, all ‘who are you going with’ and ‘what are you wearing’. Even Professor Byleth took a shine to it, even if it seemed to be less about the ball itself and more about the novelty of a formal event.

Linhardt, for his part, thought it all awfully dull. He’d been to enough of these things to know exactly what it would be like - the clothes would be stuffy, the music would be old-fashioned, and he would struggle through basic dance steps before escaping at the first opportunity. Not at all he would consider a fun night.

At the very least, he was grateful that thus far, no one had tried to talk to him about the ball. Part of him wanted to believe that it was because he’d made it plenty clear that he didn’t care, but that had never deterred the local gossips before; no, it was far more likely to be because his date to the ball was a forgone conclusion.

It was an odd thing to remember that he was supposed to be courting Caspar, mostly because it was so easy to forget. Linhardt had always thought of romance in two extremes: his parents’ polite but distant marriage, or the couples around school that seemed attached at the hip. Caspar was nothing like that. ‘Courting’ Caspar was… comfortable. Easy. No expectations, no obligations. If this was what a relationship could be like, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.

Linhardt didn’t let himself dwell overmuch on what it’d be like to court Caspar for real.

He strolled into the classroom, early for once, to find Dorothea leaned over Caspar’s desk and the two of them engaged in a discussion. They seemed to be doing a lot of that recently. Before Linhardt could get close enough to hear what they were saying, Dorothea looked up at him and apparently ended the conversation right then and there, returning to her own seat.

Caspar grinned at Linhardt as he slid into his seat next to Caspar’s.

“Hey, Linhardt.”

Linhardt hummed his acknowledgement. He wanted to ask what their conversation had been about, but previous attempts had informed him that whatever it was that Dorothea needed to talk to Caspar about, it wasn’t something Caspar was willing to share.

Caspar lightly nudged him, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Hey. Wanna go to the ball with me?”

Linhardt nodded, then Professor Byleth started class, and that was that.

* * *

The moon passed by like any other. Linhardt whiled away the days sleeping through class and staying up doing research. The White Heron Cup came and went and Ferdinand netted the Black Eagles a victory, a fact that had him gloating until Dorothea got fed up and knocked him on his ass in training.

And then the ball was upon them.

Linhardt made his way up to Caspar’s room. Students bustled to and fro around him, fussing over outfits and fretting over dates. He paid them all no mind.

Caspar wasn’t in his room, which was slightly odd but not worryingly so. Chances were he just stepped out to grab something. Linhardt decided to wait for his return, and in the meantime made himself comfortable at Caspar’s desk.

Something on the desk caught his eye. It was… a letter? How odd. Caspar didn’t often hold onto these kinds of things; perhaps it was just recent enough that he hadn't gotten around to discarding.

Linhardt didn’t really _ mean _ to read it, but he was so very curious and, in his defense, it was right there in plain sight. If it wasn't meant to be read then it should've been hidden better. 

_ Caspar, _

_ I’m sorry for not telling you, but honestly, I expected you to be happier about this proposal. You know your mother and I have always believed in marrying for love and not politics, and I really thought you liked that Hevring kid. I mean, you did tell me you wanted to be with him forever, even if you were only ten at the time. Perhaps things have changed since then but somehow, I doubt it. _

_ I can always retract the proposal if you want. _

_ Warm Regards, _

_ Father _

The door opened. Linhardt had no time to process what he’d read before Caspar came bounding in with a goofy grin and flowers in his hands.

“Linhardt! I’ve been looking for you. How come you’re not in your room?”

Linhardt shrugged, his heart pounding in his throat. He forced himself to maintain an outward calm. “I finished getting prepared and came to find you. How come you weren’t here?”

Caspar stuck out a flower. “I got corsages! Now we can match.”

“For men, they’re actually called boutonnieres,” Linhardt said, but took the flower anyway. It was a pretty shade of light blue that matched Caspar’s hair, though Linhardt didn’t know nearly enough about flowers to tell what kind it was.

“Eh, same difference.” Caspar shrugged. “Here, lemme pin it on you.”

Caspar took the flower back and stepped closer, and Linhardt tried not to think too hard about the letter or how very close to him Caspar was. Instead, he said, “Did you get all this from the greenhouse?”

“Yep,” Caspar said, and Linhardt also tried not to think too hard about the way his tongue stuck out when he was focused on something. “The staff said it’d be fine. I guess they must’ve been planting tons of flowers for the ball. And… Done!”

He stepped back to let Linhardt survey his work. It was slightly lopsided, but somehow that only made it more charming.

Caspar held out his arm, as though he were a gentleman escorting a delicate lady. “Shall we?”

Linhardt rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back a fond grin. He took Caspar’s offered arm. “Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

The ball was, in all honesty, less painful than Linhardt anticipated. Perhaps part of it was that it was less stuffy on account of it being a school ball rather than a noble event. It was more likely to be because about halfway through, someone - probably Claude - spiked the punch, and the staff spent the rest of it corralling tipsy teenagers.

Linhardt took the chaos as an opportunity to sneak out. He felt a little bad about leaving Caspar behind, but oh well. He’d understand, and would probably come find Linhardt at some point; it was always like this at any noble event important enough for the next generation to get dragged along to. Linhardt, with his lower tolerance for human interaction, would escape first, and Caspar, ever the extrovert, would stick around until he noticed Linhardt had left and would then go keep his friend company.

There was, truthfully, not many places to go at this time of night. The library staff would have long left and it was too cold to go fishing. He could have returned to his room, but something pulled him into a different direction instead. Linhardt found himself wandering, his thoughts drifting to that letter. Count Bergliez was not a cryptic man; his words contained no metaphors, no double meanings. Everything said there was the straightforward truth.

But then - it meant Caspar liked him. Either in the past tense, or the present. And that was quite a bit of information to comprehend.

It'd explain his odd behaviour when the proposal first arrived.

With a jolt, Linhardt realised he had ended up in front of the Goddess Tower. Whether his subconscious guided him because romance was on his mind, or he was led here because of the Goddess' will, he couldn't say.

He shook his head. Look at him, pondering such silly possibilities! He wasn't exactly faithless - his healing magic had to come from _ somewhere _ \- but the Goddess surely had better things to do than to meddle in the love life of one person. Still, he ended up here for a reason. Might as well go in. 

His footsteps echoed through the empty stairwell. Linhardt half-expected to find its floors already occupied, but that wasn't the case - perhaps most would be tower-goers were still at the ball. Whatever the reason, Linhardt decided not to think too much about it. He was grateful for the solitude.

He ended up only a few floors up, feeling far too lazy to work his way up to the top floor. The room had a large window, which did nothing to keep out the cold winter air but did bathe the room in gentle moonlight. Some might have found it ominous, but Linhardt thought it soothing; beautiful, even.

When had he gotten so _ sentimental_?

He felt awfully self-conscious all of a sudden. This was stupid. What was he doing? The legend of the Goddess Tower was just that: a legend. Even if it wasn’t, what were the odds that Caspar would find him? This whole thing was awfully out of character for him - Caspar had no reason to think to come here.

Just as Linhardt turned to leave, he heard another set of footsteps echo through the open stairwell. Another lovelorn hopeful coming to test the legend, most likely. But then blue hair popped into sight, and Linhardt found himself at a loss for words as Caspar came face to face with him.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “How did you know to come here?”

Caspar shrugged. “I dunno. Instinct? I saw people coming here. Figured I might as well see what all the fuss was about.”

“Really? Even though it’s supposed to be off limits?”

Caspar shrugged again. Fair enough.

He stepped further into the room and closer to Linhardt. The moonlight kissed his face, casting it in shadow and gentle glow. It highlighted the light blue boutonniere on his brown suit, sharpened off the baby fat that clung stubbornly to his cheeks. Soft, ethereal, a sight that threatened to take his breath away.

"Do you know the legend of the Goddess Tower?" 

“Nope.”

Huh. Well, leave it to Caspar to be completely oblivious to one of the biggest sources of gossip for the past moon.

“The story goes that if two people share a vow at the Goddess Tower, they’ll be bound together forever.” He paused in thought. “Hm, or was it that they’ll be cursed forever?”

Caspar pulled a face. “Eh, I think the first option sounds nicer.”

“I suppose it does. Regardless, I think it’s a rather lovely legend. Awfully sentimental, but still lovely.”

“It does sound pretty nice,” Caspar smiled. “The bound together one, I mean. Not so much the getting cursed part.”

“So, how about it? Why don’t you and I make a vow?”

Caspar blinked. “...Wait, you sure? You wanna get stuck with me?”

“Well, we don’t know if the legend is really true. But if it is… I can think of worse people to be stuck with.”

“Gee, way to boost a guy’s confidence.”

“Let me phrase it another way. Caspar, there is no one else in Fodlan I’d rather be bound to.”

“Well, in that case…” Caspar stuck out his hand, his pinky extended. “Let’s promise to meet here again, in the future. Just the two of us.”

Linhardt looked down at the hand offered to him. “I don’t object to that vow, but… why are you extending your pinky?”

“Pinky promise!”

“We’re far too old for that. I’m certain that the legend is far more binding than a pinky promise, anyhow.”

“C’mon, Linhardt! Don’t leave me hanging!”

“...”

“Would you rather spit on it?”

Pinky promise it was.

Begrudgingly, Linhardt hooked his pinky around Caspar’s. Any annoyance he felt was washed away by the sight of Caspar beaming at him, brighter than the sun and twice as blinding. If the sun was what allowed life to flourish, then Caspar’s smile was what gave Linhardt reason to feel joy.

_ I’d do a lot of things just to see that smile_, Linhardt thought.

...Ah.

Perhaps his feelings regarding the courtship had extended beyond mere practicality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess what, I _still_ hate writing dialogue.

**Author's Note:**

> writing Linhardt is convenient because I can end any scene with "and then he went back to sleep"
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at <https://colla-v0ce.tumblr.com/>


End file.
